When Does it Get Easier?
by Gandalf3213
Summary: Darry and Soda are worried about Pony and Johnny, but things haven't gotten better where they are. TwoBit and Steve got jumped. Dally was hauled down to the police station. Their little brother is missing. And it's only been a week.
1. Darry

_**I don't own the Outsiders.**_

_Darry__ isn't like Soda and he sure ain't like me._

I looked down at my hand as the door swung shut behind Ponyboy, before raising my head and raising my voice to carry out into the starry night. "Pony, I didn't mean to!"

And I didn't. God, I loved that kid, but he was so _frustrating_. If he would only think for two seconds about what he was doing. He was such a good kid...really...but was it so hard to use your head every once in a while?

I turned to my remaining brother, who was looking at me with a mixture of disappointment and worry for Pony. I saw his hand snake towards the door but stopped it. It wouldn't do any good to go after Pony now. He'd come home, or he'd go to Two-Bit's, or hang out in the lot until morning when he'd walk in and take cake out of the freezer.

"Darry?"

I tried not to look at Soda as I turned around, away from the door, and forced myself to pick up the paper I had discarded. Maybe he'd come back still. Maybe. "You should go to bed, Sodapop."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Soda still standing in front of the door, looking out it longingly as if he wanted to sprint after our disappearing brother. I wished it was that simple. After a minute or so, after a few glances at me, Soda went to the room he and Pony now shared, even in his grief his movements graceful and slow.

I glanced at the door of the bedroom as it closed softly, though not completely. Soda. The sixteen-year-old who'd probably stay that way for life. The one who'd been forced to mature along with me to help support ourselves and Pony. The one who was closest by far to our youngest brother. Had I done the right thing by stopping him from going after Pony?

It was cold out, but I opened all the windows anyway, straining my eyes to see through the darkness, as if I could make Pony appear just by wanting him to. I remembered that he only had on a sleeveless sweatshirt. He'd be cold after he cooled off from our fight. He'd come back.

_"__Me__ and Johnny fell asleep in the lot."_

Well, at least Johnny was with him. Johnny, the quiet one, the hurt, broken one, would make sure that Pony didn't do anything too rash. He'd calm Pony down as well as Soda could have. Johnny would bring him home.

For twenty minutes I gazed at the same page in the paper. I must have read the headline thirty times, but I still couldn't tell you what it was about. Probably something bloody. For twenty minutes I listened for the familiar sounds of Pony's feet on the creaking front steps that I should fix. Waited to see his tousled red-brown head poke through the door before stalking off to his room. I'd make it up to him.

Twenty minutes passed, and I did hear sounds, not as near as I thought they would be. The soft, far-away glare of a headlight peaked through the windows before it was suddenly flicked off. I got up slowly. Who would be driving to the lot at two in the morning?

Shouting. Very faint and slurred, but shouting none the less. Was that Pony's voice, or was I just so desperate to see him I wanted it to be so?

A scream, high-pitched and hair-raising made it to the window before it was suddenly silenced. Unable to wait any longer I went outside. Even from this distance I could see people running away by the light of the lone street lamp that lit a portion of the lot. I started towards it, aware of two people fleeing the scene a minute or two after the others. They were shorter than most Socs I'd seen.

When I finally got to the lot, I wanted to be sick. A small fountain in the middle was stained with crimson blood at the base and a handsome young face of a finely-dressed Soc was staring up at me.

My last thought before I closed my mind off completely was, _I hope Pony didn't try to come back home tonight._

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	2. Soda

**I don't own them.**

_Soda was different. He could get drunk at a party or a rodeo without touching a drop of alcohol._

I didn't sleep at all. Sunlight peaked through the window at five and I watched it, thinking how much Ponyboy always liked sunsets. He should be here now. He should know that Darry didn't mean it.

I managed to haul myself out of bed and trudged into the kitchen in the pair of jeans I had forgotten to take off. The front door banged open just as I was about to cut a sizeable chunk of cake. I was surprised to find Two-Bit running into the kitchen, his dancing eyes panicky. Two-Bit was rarely awake first, definitely not at five-thirty in the morning.

"What's up?" I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach as Two-Bit continued to search the kitchen. As an answer he threw a newspaper onto the table. The front page read:** Young Man Killed by Teens.** I wasn't surprised. It was rare for a week to go by without someone dying. I flipped the paper over and felt my heart slow down.

There was a picture of the dead boy, obviously a Soc. Next to him was a description of the suspected killers. _Dark hair and skin, short, wearing a jean jacket. _Johnny? It sounded just like him, but Johnny would never kill anyone. He couldn't. _Red hair, medium build, wearing torn sweatshirt._ Ponyboy...Pony hadn't come back last night. He had probably gone back to the lot with Johnny. _Suspects are armed._

I felt myself slide down to the floor, the newspaper, falling out of my hands. This was really happening. Pony and Johnny...in our gang they were the two least likely to kill anyone. Quiet, scared, dreamy...they wouldn't...it was wrong.

But then again...Johnny, hurt, lying in an alley. He carried a switchblade after that. If these Socs had attacked them, Johnny just might have killed one.

Darry came out of his bedroom then. I scrambled up. Darry would know how to handle this. Darry would figure it out. Two-Bit was sitting on the counter, flicking his switchblade in and out, glancing between us as Darry read the article.

Steve walked in just as Darry threw the paper down. Darry looked at me, and I caught a hint of fear and shame in his eyes before they turned cold and uncaring, trying to block it out. Steve came over and put a hand on my shoulder for a brief instant before the door banged open for a third time.

"So you guys already know?" Dally was there, his cool demeanor offset by his eyes. I tried to read them, but he glanced away before I could get more than a glimpse of...something. Guilt? Or did he know something we didn't. "Pony ever come home last night?"

I shook my head _no_, not bothering to explain the incident of the night before. "But he couldn't really have done this, could he?" I looked at Darry, asking for him to contradict the story.

"Sodapop..." Darry began, and I looked away. I knew that tone. "Soda, last night I saw something happen in the lot. It might have been Pony and Johnny. There were four or five Socs there too."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dally open his mouth. Darry must have seen it too, because he rounded on him, "Do you know anything about this, Dally?" So Darry had seen the look too.

Dally's eyes narrowed and I saw him tense up. You didn't just talk to Dallas Winston like that. "No I don't." Something in his voice wasn't right. Darry slammed into him, hard enough for most people to fall over but Dally held his ground, eyes blazing.

"I don't know nothing, alright?" Dally ducked another blow from Darry. I was surprised that he didn't lash out himself. Usually Dally had no problem taking you if you rubbed him the wrong way, and Darry was asking for it.

"Dar." Two-Bit muttered from his perch on the counter. Darry looked back at him, then at Dally. He relaxed and back off, turning to the rest of us like nothing ever happened.

"Listen guys." He started, glancing down at the paper again. "This means that the Socs will be all over us. They'll want revenge. Watch yourselves until things calm down again, you hear?"

We all nodded. I felt Steve reach around me and cut himself a slice of cake. His hand was shaking. I guess mine was too. What else would this bring?

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	3. Steve

_**I don't own them**_

_Steve was cocky, smart, and Soda's best buddy since grade school._

I stuck my hands in my pockets. I didn't want to think about Ponyboy and Johnny being on the run, or Johnny killing that kid. To tell the truth, I didn't care much about Pony. Never did. But Soda was all bent out of shape about it, and his eyes were hollow. I wanted the kid back, if only to bring Soda back.

Right now, I was wishing I wasn't walking alone. Darry had told us that the Socs would be out for revenge, and judging by the blue car tailing me I was guessing they were. But I couldn't do anything about it. I run, they chase, I go down harder. I stand and fight with a switchblade, they shred me to pieces and claim it was in self defense. You just can't win against people like that.

I kept walking, remembering I was cold but not wanting to rub my shoulders or pull on a jacket with these guys following me, so I lit up another cigarette. I swear, it must have been the fifth one in an hour. I was nervous. I always smoke when I'm nervous.

And why shouldn't I be? Darry and Soda are trying to go through the day with their little brother missing. Johnny killed someone last night. Dally got hauled in by the cops around noon, because they figure that anything that happens on our turf is their fault. Two-Bit...well, who knows what goes on in Two-Bit's head, but he was all for going down to Texas to hunt for Pony and Johnny.

We were a mess. I knew it. If these kids didn't come back for a reason, we'd be done. Our gang, I mean.

Now the car was getting closer. I glanced behind me, trying to do it without looking frightened. I turned around, walked a little bit faster, and cursed. Five guys, maybe six if there was a small one in the back seat. I didn't know if I could take on that many.

The car pulled up right behind me, no more than a foot away. I stamped out my cigarette and stopped, waiting as the kids got out. They would have rammed me if I kept walking. You can't win.

"Hey greaser." It wasn't a high call like usual. This time, the words were said in a low voice between a hiss and a whisper. I felt my spine tighten, my hand already drifting towards my back pocket. There were six.

Not a word was spoken, and I was just opening my mouth, trying to think of one of Two-Bit's fancy retorts when they came at me, all six of them.

There was no chance. I managed to raise up by arm to block a punch from one of them, and duck a swing from another, but then a guy came up from behind and pinned my arms to my sides. A kicked at him from behind but then a guy hit me in the face and I saw stars.

Next thing I know I was down, a guy on my chest, one on my legs, and two guys on either side. I started letting off a string of curses through the blood in my mouth before one guy stuck a handkerchief in my mouth. "Shut up. Your filthy greaser buddy killed Bob. Since we can't find him..." He punched me again. I felt the rings on his hand rip my face open. Vaguely, I was reminded of Johnny, the way he'd looked after he'd been beat up by the Socs.

The guy on my chest got up. I tried to sit up but he stomped down on my chest. I sweat I heard ribs crack. He did it again...again. I desperately tried wiggling out of their grip but two other guys were punching my face, bruising my arms.

I almost welcomed the darkness that engulfed me, glad to be away from the pain.

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	4. Dally

_**I own it not.**_

_And Dally, wild, cunning Dally, turning into a hoodlum because he'd die if he didn't._

I walked back from Tim's. I'd been there since the cops hauled me in at noon, asking be all these questions about that dead Soc like I was the one who did it. I didn't mind though. There was no way in Hell I'd let Johnny go through what I did in jail. Not over my dead body.

I was almost to our territory now. Shepard lives on the other side of the park, pretty close to Soc territory. Too close for me, but he says he likes it there. More action. I say sure, whatever floats your boat. Anyway, I was just coming up to the park and I just felt that something was wrong. I had the same feeling a month ago, when Johnny got hurt. Something brought me to that place.

So I followed this feeling, turning slightly, taking a different route. It didn't matter, I wasn't going anywhere in particular. It was cold, and normally I'd crash at Buck's or the Curtis place, but Buck got arrested this afternoon and the Curtis'…well, with Pony gone, they had enough to worry about without having some no-good greaser strung out on their couch.

Anyway, in an ally just on the East side of the park I stopped because I heard this sound…I don't even know if I heard it or I just thought I heard it. Whatever happened, I ended up finding Steve.

I knelt down next to him. God, he looked bad, even worse than Johnny had, if that was possible. I put my fingers on his neck, thinking that there was no way he could survive looking like this. I'd seen death before, in New York, it looked something like this.

But Steve was strong, a fighter. A heartbeat was there, but just barely. He needed help, fast. I checked him over before I started moving him. I paid just enough attention in Health class to know that you shouldn't move someone with a neck injury or they might, you know, die. But it didn't look like Steve's neck was broken, even though just about everything else was.

"Sorry, buddy." I knew I was going to hurt him when I picked him up. I looked down at the spot he had just left. There was a pool of blood. Not good. I thought I heard Steve groan as I started walking. "It's alright, Steve." I muttered, knowing it was the Socs who did this and wanting to kill them for it. God, they'd already driven Johnny and the kid away, why couldn't they just leave us alone?

Steve's head moved. He was regaining consciousness and I saw him wince in pain. "Soda?" he murmured, not opening his eyes. I didn't know if he could open them. They were swollen and bruised.

I turned the corner, the Curtis house was just a few more blooks. "No, it's me, Steve. Listen, you're going to be okay, just stay with me. Don't fall asleep." Even I heard the panic in my voice. My shirt was being stained with Steve's blood.

"So tired. So cold, Dal." And he was cold. I could feel him shivering in my arms.

I shook him, wincing as he cried out in pain. "Don't go to sleep, Steve, we're almost there. You can go to sleep in a bit." We were passing the lot now. I saw a light on in the Curtis' window. But I also felt Steve drift back into unconsciousness.

I pushed open the door with my body. Darry was sitting on the couch, Soda at the table, even Two-Bit was there, sitting on the counter. They all stood up when I entered. "Dal...is that Steve?" Darry was the first to us. I could hear Soda give a frightened squeek and run over as I put Steve down. My shirt had been stained red with his blood.

Two-Bit, unsmiling, serious Two-Bit, brought over the First-Aid kit, looking at Steve worridly. "You see who it was, Dal?"

I leaned against the wall, trying to push back my fear, trying to look tough. "Naw. They were gone by the time I got there. I was just walking by, happened to see him. But it was the Socs. I know it was." My fists clenched. God, I hated those guys. I hated them.

"Good thing you were walking by." Soda said, his voice low as he started cleaning some of the larger wounds on Steve's stomach. "He would have bled out if he had been left there all night." I could hear the sob in his throat, and so could Darry because he put a reassuring hand on Soda's shoulder.

Steve still hadn't woken up again. "Some of those will need stitches." I pointed out, noticing a five-inch gash on Steve's upper arm. "He'll need to go to the hospital."

"No hos'pal." Steve murmured.

Darry leaned over him. "Can you open your eyes, Steve?" he asked. "I need to see if your head's okay."

I could see Steve bite his lip as he tried to open his swollen eyes. Darry peered into them, waving his hand over first one, then the other. Whatever he saw must have pleased him because he said. "I can do the stitches if you want, Steve." Steve nodded, and Darry got up to get the stuff he needed.

Soda sat near Steve's head, one hand in his hair, the other closed tight around Steve's left hand. Soda was crying. I turned away, towards Two-Bit, taken aback by the fire in his eyes. "You want to help me get them?" I asked. He nodded, and I knew that those Socs were going to pay for Steve. For Johnny.

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	5. Tim

**I don't own them.**

_Some of us never cry at all. Like Dally and Two-Bit and Tim Shepard--they forgot how at an early age._

I didn't like the Socs. I don't think any Greaser in their right mind actually likes them, but I hate them. They shouldn't go around jumping people, ganging up on them, and they definitely shouldn't go after the youngest ones.

I heard about the Curtis kid getting jumped. Dally was real wound up about that, came over yesterday around noon saying that he got picked up by the cops because they thought that he knifed some Soc. I had already heard about that. I think he was more upset about those kids going missing. Dal has a real soft spot for Cade.

And the Socs didn't stop there. I heard through the grapevine that another one of his gang got jumped, and he wasn't doing to good either. They just don't have the best of luck.

But we're getting hurt pretty bad over here too. I was at work when this kid from my gang, Nicko, comes running in and says I'd better come with him and something about Curly, so I started running.

I found Curly two blocks away from the bar (A/N: I _think_ Tim works in a bar), real cut up and bruised. He was unconscious too, his eyes swollen shut. I checked him over, trying to remember to breathe as I looked for anything bad enough to kill him.

Nicko was already kneeling next to him and shook him to see if he'd wake up. I dragged his hand away, "Are you nuts? You could kill him doing that!" my voice was higher then I'd planned it to be, and Nicko must have seen something in my eyes because he backed away from Curly real quick.

Now it was my turn to kneel next to my brother. I was cursing the Socs with everything I had. Why did they always go for the small ones? Curly was barely fifteen, and was a great fighter, but if the Socs had ganged up on him, he probably didn't have a chance.

It wasn't until I put my hands out to try to help him that I realized I was shaking. Curly still wasn't moving, and his chest wasn't rising with his breath. He could be dead. Looking over the wounds again, I decided that he _should_ be dead. God, my brother should be dead. Those Socs had better watch out.

Finally, I managed to get my hand steady enough to get an accurate pulse. Way too slow, barely there. He needed a hospital, now, and that I could give him.

I picked him up (no neck injuries, thank God), cradling him in my arms. Too small. He was always too small. I looked him over, taking in the bruises, the cuts, the broken bones. At least two ribs were broken, along with his arm, which was dangling near his side at an awkward angle.

I tried not to jostle him as I walked towards my car. Still, he hadn't woken up, and I had my fingers to his neck constantly, feeling his pulse become weaker. We had left behind a large puddle of blood.

It was only in the car that he stirred. I was in the back with him, Nicko was driving like a mad man. He groaned as he woke up, not opening his eyes. "Tim?"

"Yeah." I breathed out, glad that he had woken up at last. I was about to say something else to him when he passed out again.

He had to stay overnight at the hospital. I told Nicko to drive me to the Curtis's house. Maybe Dally would be there. We had to do something about this, or there'll be no kids left.

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